


loving you is a losing game

by livingincolors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Ron Weasley, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Requited Love, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingincolors/pseuds/livingincolors
Summary: Sick and tired of Hermione and Mrs Weasley's nagging, Harry and Ron agree to pretend to date. It's ridiculously simple, they live, work and go out together. Everyone believes it, and after a while, Harry starts to believe it too.Or,In which the lines get blurry, and Harry only realises what game they're playing after he's already lost.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 107
Kudos: 444





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- I have a lot of things, but apparently self-control is NOT one of them. I wasn't going to post this, it also was supposed to be a freaking one-shot, but I got too excited, so! New story! 
> 
> \- The title is from the song Arcade by Duncan Laurence. I listened to it last year and was hit by ~inspiration~. It's an absolutely beautiful song and it heavily inspired this story and motivated me to finally write this after having the idea for, like, five years!
> 
> \- Well, Enjoy!

Harry's drunk. Absolutely buzzed. Completely pissed.

The Weasleys' celebrations always end like this, no matter what they're celebrating. At this point, Harry's not sure what and why they are celebrating but he feels happy, despite Mrs Weasley's pointedly heavy sighs and disappointed muttering about his and Ron's continued inability to be anything but stubbornly single. Not even Hermione's drunk nagging is getting to him, though her prolonged monologue is starting to make his head throb. Desperately, he takes a step away from her and her glazed eyes and looks around the room for an escape, which he finds in an equally drunk Ron, who's in some sort of battle with his sweater. He appears to be trying to take his sweater off by pulling it sideways, of all things.

Harry hands Hermione his empty glass (she immediately tries to drink from it, becoming very puzzled when she finds it empty, so she starts to look inside the glass searchingly. Harry would have laughed if he wasn't so grateful for the escape) and goes over to Ron, who is one move away from falling off the couch.

"Ron?" Harry asks, his voice heavy. Ron blinks up at him, half his face hidden in the tormented sweater.

"H'ry?" Ron asks back,

"Whatcha doin'?" Harry asks as he sits next to him.

"Want," he nearly shouts as pulls his sweater, "this off!" He makes a frustrated sound. "Hot!" He says, pulling with both hands in two different directions. "Off!" He repeats and spits at Harry's face very generously. Harry wipes his glasses with the sleeve of his own sweater and stares at his friend's flushed face,

"You can't," He says reasonably. Ron narrows his eyes as if Harry's challenging him,

"I can!" Ron exclaims, his face turning three shades of red and eyes growing bleary. Harry's about to shout back when Mrs Weasley suddenly appears, hands on her hips and glaring,

"Stop shouting, Ronald Weasley, you're going to wake up the kids!"

Ron, startled by her appearance, nods then pouts, "Mum," he says, "hot!"

She shakes her head and walks away, muttering as she snatches a sharp looking object from George's hand. Percy looks extremely relieved by this turn of events.

Ron turns his pout to Harry, "Hot!" He repeats angrily and crosses his arms.

***

_I really fucking hate flooing_ , Harry thinks, glaring up at the ceiling of his and Ron's flat. He ignores Ron's undignified snort as he struggles to stand, before deciding to just crawl to the couch.

He's exhausted by the time he climbs the couch, so he immediately relaxes into the soft cushions and sighs, jumping a little when Ron gasps loudly and pokes his side rather sharply.

"I've got the bestest idea!"

"Uh?"

"Bestest idea ever!" He says confidently. Harry waits for him to continue.

And waits.

And waits.

Then waits some more.

"Er. Ron?"

Ron grunts,

"Idea?"

"Huh?"

Harry frowns then shrugs, relaxing again into the soft cushions. He's almost asleep when Ron suddenly gasps again, "H'ry!"

Harry, silently mourning his interrupted sleep, looks at Ron, "What?"

"We shoulda date!"

Harry blinks. Then blinks again. He opens his mouth to speak and makes a squeaky sort of noise. "Er- huh?" He asks smartly,

"Then Mum and 'ermione won't bother us!"

"Ugh," Harry replies. "What?"

"Pretend to date!"

Harry stares at him for a long time. "What?" he asks again,

Ron actually sighs and looks at him like he's a moron. "Pretend to date," he repeats, slower,

"You're drunk," Harry says tiredly,

"You too!"

"But I didn't say what you said!"

"It's a good idea! No one'd ever bother us again!"

"It's horrible!"

"It's not."

Harry stares at him.

"It'd be good for us! We're good together!"

Harry can't stop staring at him, wondering if Ron's actually drunker than he appears, which is actually a quite distressing thought, given just how drunk he currently appears.

Ron looks at the fireplace, pouting slightly.

"No," Harry says, suddenly feeling sobered up, "Ron, you don't know what you're talking about,"

"We're good together, 'Arry," Ron murmurs, not looking at him. "We're happy. They'd believe it."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that. They _are_ happy, even if no one believes them. Life with Ron is exactly how Harry always imagined it would be, easy and enjoyable and comfortable, and they are happy. And single, very, very single and it's driving Mrs Weasley up the wall.

Maybe Ron's idea isn't the worst. Not much would change between them anyway. They lived, worked and hanged out together. It makes sense.

Harry turns to Ron to voice his thoughts, only to find him snoring softly. He smiles fondly, watching Ron's relaxed, flushed face, his messy hair and his slightly parted lips. Shaking his head at his friend, Harry nudges him to wake him up and helps him to his bedroom.

***

His head is steadily throbbing in a painfully familiar way. Burying his head deeper into the pillows, he wishes for a less painful and quicker death. He hears the door open but doesn't bother moving.

"Rise and shine, sunshine," Ron says cheekily, voice tried but cheerful. "Your hero is going to save you."

Harry silently curses him as he lifts his head, whimpering at the brightly lit room. He mentally curses even more when Ron shoves the bottle under his nose, making his already upset stomach lurch dangerously. Harry glares at the cheeky smile and downs the potion.

"Good morning, grumpy,"

"You were drunker than me." Harry says in reply, glaring as Ron's smile widens lopsidedly,

"I'm not a teensy, tiny human like you."

Harry growls and smacks him with a pillow.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Harry walks into the kitchen where Ron's sitting at the table drinking his tea and eating his toast.

"You had the _bestest_ idea yesterday," Harry says casually, sitting down. Ron looks at him weirdly.

"Come again?"

Harry bites back a smile and says, "Bestest idea. Your words."

Ron looks confused, "And it was?"

"To pretend to date so your Mum and Hermione would stop bothering us."

"Pretend to date who- _oh_." His face pinks and he takes a bite from his toast and chews slowly, not looking at Harry, "um,"

Neither of them says anything as they eat their pathetic excuse of breakfast. Then Ron breaks the silence, "It's not-" he stops, looking down at his empty plate, "it's not- I think-"

Harry freezes. He looks at Ron, wondering if he actually means what he thinks he does. Finally, Ron looks back at Harry. "Maybe it's not a bad idea,"

Harry drops his half-eaten toast. "Er," he says. Ron's ears turn bright red.

"I mean- we don't- it's just, y'know, it- maybe.. um,"

"What?" Harry actually squeaks,

"Er, well," Ron looks away again, "maybe it's not the worst idea. God knows, I've tempted to do it several times,"

"Oh," is all Harry can say. Silence stretches between them as they avoid looking at each other. Harry takes a bite of his toast, hating how it sticks to the roof of his mouth, refusing to budge. He chances a glance at Ron, whose face has lost its flush and now just looks pale and scared.

"Well," he says without thinking, hating that look on Ron's face, "it does have its perks,"

Ron slowly turns to him again, "Yeah?" he sounds unsure. Harry gives a small nod,

"I mean, it makes sense," he bravely holds Ron's eyes, "and if there's a chance it might get Hermione and your Mum off our backs, it might be worth a shot,"

"Yeah," Ron gives him a small smile. Harry takes another bite of his toast to distract himself from the unsteady bounding of his heart that was making him go hot all over.

"Yeah," Harry replies and grabs his tea.

***

"Hermione's gonna see right through this," Ron says to Harry's latest idea. Harry huffs, growing frustrated. They've been doing this for three bloody days and yeah, okay, it's not a good idea, but Ron isn't being terribly helpful either.

"Well then," Harry says scowling, "you can try thinking anytime soon," he turns back to his work,

Ron throws him a dirty look, "I'm thinking!"

"I'm all ears," Harry says without looking at him,

"Well," he sheepishly says, "we can just, y'know, tell 'em we've been secretly dating for- I dunno, sometime?"

Harry looks at him blankly for a whole minute.

"Oh, yes," he nods slowly, face straight, "there's no way Hermione's gonna see right through that,"

Ron gives Harry a very telling look. "Sod off," he says simply, "that's the best we could do,"

Harry thinks about it for minute. It _is_ the best they could do. "I don't like it,"

"You can only say that if you've got a better idea," Ron counters,

Harry scowls at him, but Ron remains unbothered.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Fine."

Ron raises an eyebrow,

"We do that,"

" _That_?" Ron asks, smugger than necessary,

"Bloody hell, Ron," Harry growls,

Ron smirks, "I'd like to point out that, so far, you've been pretty useless in this plan. Pray tell, what would you do without my mastermind?"

Harry feels great satisfaction by Ron's yelp when the thrown file hits its target.

***

It's easier said than done, apparently.

Now, sitting before Hermione in her living room, they both keep catching each other's eyes then looking back at her, and not saying a single word.

Hermione appears to be on her last nerve. "What?" she snaps, making both of them start a little.

"What?" Harry replies stupidly,

"Why are you here?"

"Oh," he says and looks at Ron, who blinks and takes a deep breath before saying,

"We've something.. um, there's a- well, y'see.."

Hermione stares uncomprehendingly at him,

"Um, Hermione.."

"I'm listening,"

"Err, y'know- well- we're, me and Harry, we're, well- er,"

"Ron!"

"Dating!" He exclaims,

Her face lights up, "oh, that's great, Ron! Finally, I'm so happy for both of you! Who are you dating?"

Ron eyeballs her. "Hermione," He says patiently. Hermione always chooses the worst moments to be slow.

"What? Who- oh."

No one says anything for a few minutes. Hermione doesn't even blink. Harry begins to fidget, heart beating in his throat as _she knows, she understands, we're screwed_ races through his mind. Ron seems to be frozen next to him, but Harry doesn't try to look at him.

"Hermione," he breaths, "please say something,"

She turns to him, "you're dating my ex boyfriend,"

He swallows hard. "Do you-" he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, "Do you have a problem with this?"

She looks at Ron, who is glaring at the small squat table, then back to Harry, "I don't know, it's just-"

"A lot?" helps Harry.

"A surprise," she shakes her head. "How long has this been going on?"

Harry catches Ron's eyes, Ron shrugs, so Harry says, "Not for long." Ron nods, avoiding looking at Hermione. His face is coloured with guilt, and Harry's grateful that Hermione could mistake the guilt for them dating behind her back rather than lying to her face.

"Ron," Hermione says softly, "please look at me."

Ron does, slowly and unsurely,

"You've got my full support," she turns to Harry, "always. You know that. It just came as a surprise, that's all. But that's rather foolish of me, you two were always too close and too good together. It makes sense it's more that platonic love."

Ron stares at her with a look full of love before walking over to her and pulling her into a hug. "Thank you. I love you, Hermione, so much,"

She gives him a watery smile when she pulls away, "I love you too, both of you,"

"Don't cry," Harry warns, smiling from his seat as he watches them,

She chuckles, tearing up, "I won't!"

He meets Ron's eyes, who winks at him as he puts an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her close.

***

Next is Mrs Weasley, and the whole family. But mainly, Mrs Weasley. Harry finds himself dreading it. Ron's her son, her real son, no matter what. But him? She has no reason, no obligation to love him unconditionally. To forgive him anything.

Harry's scared he's going to lose the closest thing to a mother he's ever had.

He stops at the open door of Ron's bedroom, he can see Ron standing before the mirror, brushing his hair and fixing his clothes. He turns when he finishes, the smile slipping right off his face when he sees Harry.

"Harry," he takes three big steps towards him, "what's wrong?" he asks, eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry tries to explain what Mrs Weasley meant to him, but words fails him. She's nice to him, she hugs him, she feeds him and she welcomes him. These things seem simple enough, maybe not even much to some people.

To Harry though? She's the first person to do so. No one was ever nice to him, no one hugged him or feed him. He was not welcomed. The Weasleys are Harry's family, and now, he feels as if he is risking that. And they are too important to risk.

"Ron," he says, "maybe we- I don't think-"

Ron frowns, confused, but doesn't say anything.

"Your mother-"

"Would be beside herself with happiness when she finds out you're one step closer to officially being part of the family," Ron says, daring Harry to say anything stupid, and not for the first time, Harry finds himself astonished by how much Ron knows him. "She, however, would not forgive us if we're late for dinner,"

He is right, of course, so they leave.

The Burrow is, as always, loud and warm and smells just like home. Harry takes a deep breath, smiling at Victorie's shout of delight when she sees them. His smile widens when Ron gasps and scoops her up, planting kisses all over her face as she shrieks with laughter. He says his hellos to everyone in the room, meeting Ron's eyes when he's at the door. Ron nods, putting Victorie down and ruffling Ginny's hair as he makes his way to Harry.

They are alone in the hall that lead to the kitchen, and Harry grabs Ron's forearm, stopping him mid-step, which makes Ron lose his balance a bit. He throws Harry a dirty look and says, " _what_?" shortly.

"Are you sure-"

"Harry Potter, I swear to God-"

"Maybe we shouldn't-"

"If you don’t get it together-"

"Do it today. Everyone-"

"Well," Ron snaps, stepping closer to Harry, " _Good_."

"No, Ron," Harry whispers, looking around to make sure they are still alone, "not good. What if-"

"What if _what,_ Harry?" Ron's face softens. When Harry says nothing, he sighs, "Look, if you don't want to do this,"

"I do. It's not that."

Ron looks at him, really looks at him. "Harry," he starts, voice low, as if he's saying a secret, "they love you, nothing gonna change that. You're part of this family, when are you going to get it through your thick skull?"

Harry flushes, frowning at Ron, who crosses his arms, looking very proud of himself.

"You don't know that!"

"Harry," Ron says slowly, as if talking to an imbecile, "you dated Ginny. You broke up. You're still always invited every Sunday, every Christmas and every birthday in between. So, yea, I do know that,"

Harry really bloody hates when Ron is logical and right. "Fine. Have it your way! But I'll blame you the second anything goes wrong,"

"'Course you'll," he actually smirks.

His smirk falls clean off his face when they enter the kitchen. Mrs Weasley is working at the cooker, chatting happily with Fleur and Charlie, two of the four people who are allowed in her kitchen. Harry and Ron are the other two.

Charlie's the first to notice them, "look who finally decided to make an appearance!" He grabs Ron, who has a few good inches on him, and wrestles him into a hug. Ron tries and fails to hide his smile.

"I'd say I missed your face," Ron says, smiling as his mum fusses over Harry, patting his cheeks and hair while wrestling his brother, "but I really didn't," he pushes Charlie away, who growls and grabs him from around the waist,

"No fighting in the kitchen!" Mrs Weasley warns, grabbing Ron away from his older brother, hugging him. They hugs Fleur next, Harry happily patting her small belly. They spend the next ten minutes laughing, Harry and Ron helping with the cooking.

Once they are alone in the kitchen with Mrs Weasley, Ron closes the door as Harry makes her sit down. They sit opposite her, looking at her worriedly.

"Something's wrong, loves?"

They look at each other then at her again. "Nothing is wrong," Ron says, and under the table, he grabs Harry's hand tightly, "We've something to tell you,"

She encouragingly nods.

Ron takes a deep breath, stealing one last glance at Harry, who is white in the face. Ron gives his hand a squeeze, "We're dating," he pulls their hands from under the table and puts them on the table between them.

She gasps. Harry's hand switches, letting Ron know the only thing stopping Harry from fleeing is his tight hold. Ron pushes himself closer to Harry's side, closely watching his mother's face, as it goes from to shock to utter happiness.

Ron's shoulders sag in relief.

***

After that, it's easy.

Life goes on, same as it was before, only now they act a bit closer and intimate when they're not alone. Hermione thinks they're adorable and Mrs Weasley appears to be planning their wedding (Ron tries to avoid her every time she gets that glint in her eyes, he knows it's no good. Harry, being the poor polite sod he is, takes the blunt of her plans. He's always a bit pale after.).

For over a month, everything is going smoothly. Then Halloween comes with a problem they don't see coming. Hermione moves to a new flat, her first home, so to speak. It's a lovely place, very Hermione-ish. Then she decides to throw a party, on Halloween. A housewarming. Food and drinks and music and _costumes._

When she first tells them, Harry and Ron just stare at her blankly. Harry's still not quite sure why they agreed to help. There's also the problem that, while their family and Hermione know about them 'dating', no one else does.

So Halloween finds them at Hermione's new place.

By the time it's ten o'clock, everyone is truly sloshed in way that only people who survived a war could. Hermione's living room currently resembles a nightclub, though everyone is in over-the-top costumes. Even more than usual, which says something considering what witches and wizards normally wear. Harry's watching the whole scene with something akin to bewilderedness. Ginny's covered from head to toe in glitter, successfully resembling a disco-ball and anyone who had gotten close to her is now covered in glitter too.

Everyone is covered in glitter. _Everything_ is covered in glitter. Harry looks to his left, Ron's laughing as he watches Seamus struggling to copy the complicated dance moves Dean is performing, his right cheek is lightly covered in glitter, giving him a glimmering look.

Harry feels a happy, bubbly feeling in his chest at Ron's happy, shiny face. Ron laughs harder when Seamus almost goes head over heels, turning to Harry to make sure he's watching too. The music is too loud, so he leans closer and Harry can feel his warm breath brushing against the right side of his neck, making goosebumps erupt all over his body.

Then, Ginny and Luna are standing right in front of them, Ginny shouting something over the music, and Harry drops his glass in shock, overwhelmed. He looks from the broken glass to Ron's blinking eyes to Ginny's mischievous face to Luna's blank one, and feels very detached from reality.

He doesn't really agree, but finds himself sitting crosslegged on the floor of Hermione's living room, all the new, polished furniture pushed to the side as they all sit in circle to play spin the bottle.

And it's fun, it's okay, nothing too weird, maybe even a bit boring given what game they're playing.

But when Ron spins the bottle and it stops at _him_ , Harry starts to quietly fall apart. He tries to keep his face blank, but he's pretty sure he's glaring at the bottle. He looks up when Ron's shadow falls over him. He is kneeling before Harry, face neutral, but his eyes are speaking to Harry, asking for permission, maybe pleading.

Harry looks away from Ron's bright eyes and he finds Hermione's, studying them. Then he meets Ginny's eyes, and she gives him a small smile. He turns back to Ron.

A small nod from him and Ron leans closer. There are cheers and chants, they get louder and louder and louder, but when Ron's lips touch his, everything stops. Fades away. Doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the soft, tentative touch of Ron's lips on his. Harry's heart soars, beating wildly and unevenly in his chest, his lungs scream for air, because he's not breathing, doesn't seem to remember how. A buff of air escapes him, and Ron goes rigid, moves to pull away, and boldly, Harry follows, reclaiming Ron's lips, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

He comes alive when Ron kisses back.

He feels familiar hands on the nape of his neck, his cheeks, his sides, so he grabs Ron's face, sliding his hands through his soft hair, kissing him deeper, tasting the beer he drank earlier on his tongue.

Then it's over and they pull away slowly, out of breath, eyes still closed.

The room is silent, or maybe Harry just can't hear anything over the loud bounding of his heart. He opens his eyes, mindfully looking away from Ron's burning gaze. He finds himself afraid of what he'll see in Ron's eyes. What Ron will see in his.

So instead he meets Hermione's shocked eyes. He quickly looks away, and he finds various stunned faces staring at them.

The silence lingers, heavy and thick, and Harry doesn't meet Ron's eyes.

Then Seamus cheers, then Ginny claps, then everyone is cheering and clapping and teasing and Harry still doesn't quite meet Ron's eyes.

And that's how their friends find out they're 'dating'.


	2. Chapter 2

They don't talk about it. Not really.

Not at all.

The next morning Harry wakes up to the smell of fried eggs and bacon. Ron smiles at him when he enters the kitchen, the fact that the night before he snogged the daylights out of Harry doesn't seem to be even remotely bothering him, so Harry pretends it's not bothering him either. They eat their breakfast in a semi comfortable silence, and they don't talk about it.

They go to work, missions and field work and paperwork, and they don't talk about it.

They go to the Burrow, Sunday dinners and Mrs Weasley's affectionate looks and Weasley siblings' teasing, and they don't talk about it.

Harry wants to say that nothing's changed, but something's different, in a way. It's not much, but it's there. Lingering in the air, taunting Harry. Trying to catch his attention, warn him, but he's none the wiser.

Harry wants to say Ron is different, but he's not. Not really. Ron is still Ron, funny and loyal and smarter than anyone gives him credit for, even Ron himself. Same old Ron, always there, always in his space. Harry never really minded, never really cared. He loves having Ron in his space, abhors when he's not.

It's just that now, he's hyperaware of it.

"Ron, we're gonna be late," Harry shouts, hoping Ron hears him down the hallway. Ron doesn't answer, so Harry, grumpily muttering, drops his robes and goes to the bathroom.

He's two steps away when the door opens and Ron steps out, still wet and _naked_ , using the towel to dry his hair instead of covering himself.

The air freezes in Harry's lungs as he watches the water drops roam down the length of Ron's naked body freely.

"Five minutes, I promise!" Ron says distractedly, striding to his room,

Harry doesn't move, doesn't really breathe, his mind and his heart racing as he stands in the hallway with an incredibly confusing hard on.

It takes Ron less than five minutes, then he's passing Harry without as much as a glance, his Auror robes bellowing behind him, and Harry snaps to action, taking fast steps to keep up, mindfully remembering to grab his own robes.

Then they're at work and up to their necks with paperwork from the previous mission, and Harry doesn't have time to dwell on the confusion that Ron's wet, naked body brings.

***

Harry's at the office, drowning in paperwork and files, when Seamus walks in, loudly, really bloody loudly, talking.

"What?" Harry asks shortly, not even looking at him. The tower of paperwork hasn't gotten shorter even though he's been working all morning.

"H'y now, what crawled up yer arse and died," Seamus says as he takes a seat before Harry, "Where's Ron?"

Harry ignores him, _tries_ to ignore him.

"I dunno," he mutters,

"Ya don't know where yer boyfriend is?"

"I.. have to?" Harry says slowly, baffled at the logic as he looks up at Seamus,

Seamus stares at him as if he's an imbecile. "Yeah?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Seamus. We live and work together, we don't need to be know where the other is every single second of the day,"

Seamus' eyebrows shoot up, almost touching his hairline, so Harry backtracks.

"It's been a long day. Sorry. Just.. why are ya here?"

Just then, Ron walks through the door, stopping mid-step when he sees Seamus.

"Seamus," he greets, walking over to his desk, "whatcha doing here? Don't you have a job?"

"Just dropped by to invite ya out,"

Ron looks at Harry, back at him, "that could've easily been a letter,"

"Wanted to catch ya bein' naughty, turns out yer one of those boring, professional old-married couples," he says cheekily, leaving before either of them have a chance to say anything.

Later, he sends a letter with all the details. Ron shakes his head, resigned as Harry reads the letter aloud in a horrible Seamus impression.

At the weekend, they meet their friends at a queer friendly club, a muggle club, so Harry is nervous; neither him nor Neville are good at controlling their magic when drunk, Hermione gets drunk halfway through her first drink, Ron and Seamus are likely to loudly say something that will require a few memory charms and Ginny's definitely going to hex someone.

He still hopes for the best though, because Dean is there and Luna is not, and that's something at least.

Five drinks later and he can't remember what he was so worried about. The dance floor is crowded in a way he knows would make him hyperventilate, so he sits at the table nursing his drink as he watches Ginny and Seamus dance together then with other people. Ron is next to him, close enough for Harry to feel his body heat, and even though the place is hot, he can't really be bothered by it. It's comforting, in a way, always has been. Opposite them, Hermione is talking about something so fast, she's a bit purple in the face. Neville's looking at her with wide, slightly frightened eyes. Dean, though, is just watching them, a bit fascinated at the whole group.

And it's fine, the music is good and the drinks are great and they're all enjoying themselves, until a tall, handsome bloke starts eyeing Ron rather fervently. Harry's too slow and too drunk and suddenly the bloke, _the really handsome bloke, bugger all_ , is standing next to their table and Harry doesn't need to hear what he's saying to know he's asking Ron for a _dance_.

Something flairs unpleasantly in his chest, raises to his throat, clawing and burning, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and Harry's too far gone to overthink it; he just growls rather possessively and nastily pushes the man's extended hand away from Ron. Ron looks at him, surprised, but he remains silent.

The bloke, though, he just coolly says, "I wasn't talking to you,"

Harry feels _sick_ , seething as he jumps to feet, "you're talking to my _boyfriend_ ," he hisses without overthinking it,

The man raises an eyebrow, completely unaffected. Ron stands too, looking red in the face as he stands between them. Hermione, Dean and Neville are just watching the whole scene with their mouths open, looking absolutely moronic. Ginny and Seamus rejoin the group, watching them warily.

"Is he, now?" the bloke drawls, face too neutral for the nasty glint in his eyes. "If he were mine, I don't think I'd 'ave been able to keep my hands to myself."

Harry lunges at him, and only Ron's arms around his waist are stopping him from doing something completely stupid. The lights flicker dangerously over them and Harry knows his magic is getting out of control, but the only thing he cares about right now is rearranging the git's face.

Ron tightens his arms around him and drags him out before he blasts the whole place down. Harry knows Ron is glaring, he knows Ron is mad, can feel Ron's burning gaze at the side of his face as the rest of the group join them outside.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Ron shouts. Harry stares right ahead, refusing to speak or look. He's not sure what to say or where to look, but he knows he shouldn't look at or speak to Ron. When Ron walks around him to meet his eyes, Harry has no choice but to look at him; Ron's ears are a deep, ugly shade of red, his handsome features twisted with anger,

"What was that all about? What's wrong with you?!" he sneers,

Surprisingly, it's Hermione who speaks,

"Well, Ron, that guy was rather-" she rationally reasons, _tries_ to; she falls silent when Ron turns his glare on her, then at Ginny, when she snorts,

"C'mon Ron, y'know Harry's the jealous type," she says, crossing her arms as she wiggles her eyebrows,

Harry goes simultaneously hot and cold at her words. Ron blinks at her, looking back at Harry, his face unreadable. Well, Harry doesn't necessary have enough time to read his face as Ron utters an excuse and drags Harry by the forearm to a dark corner, Apparating them to their flat.

"You sod," Ron says lightly as Harry's entire world spins alarmingly, "I didn't know you were that good of an actor!"

Harry stares at him stupidly before it clicks.

 _Oh_.. He thinks, watching Ron disappears into his bedroom.

Harry stands alone in the hallway, mouth dry and breathing shallow, feeling sick and overwhelmed and befuddled and a bit drunk. He drags his feet to the bathroom, striping his clothes off and throwing them in a heap on the floor.

Standing under the cold water, Harry wills himself to calm down, to not think about why that bloke's attention on Ron leaves such bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe Ron is right. Maybe he is that good of an actor.

***

The morning doesn't bring clarity, but Ron doesn't talk about it, so Harry doesn't think about it.

  
  
***

Christmas comes and goes rather smoothly. It's very hard to be anything but cheerful when spending Christmas with the Weasleys. They eat and drink, sing and dance, just enjoying themselves and their time in the crowded, colourful warmness of the Burrow.

Then, it's a new year and they're back to work.

Then, Hermione's more trouble than humanly possible.

One early morning, they're sleeping peacefully, unaware of their prying best friend flooing over. That, in and of itself, is not new. She goes to the kitchen, prepares three different cups of tea, as she always does.

Then she goes to Harry's bedroom. She knocks twice, softly calling out his name, then Ron's. When no one answers, she calls their names a little louder. When she's met by silence, she quietly turns the knob and opens the door, peeking inside.

Harry is sleeping. But he's sleeping alone.

She frowns as she closes the door. She calls out Ron's name again, louder, checking the bathroom, the living room, and finally _his_ bedroom.

Her frown deepens when she sees Ron sleeping in his own bed.

Harry finds her in the kitchen an hour later, the cup of cold tea in her hands. He says, "good morning," to which she replies,

"Why are you sleeping in separate rooms?"

Harry freezes, staring at her stupidly, "what?"

"Look, I know that I shouldn't have gotten into your rooms, but I knocked! I did! I called out for both of you. And Ron wasn't there when I checked your room, so I searched for him. Why are you sleeping in separate rooms, Harry? Ron, well, I know he likes-" she stops, flushing a bit as she looks down at her cup,

Harry continues staring at her, uncomprehendingly. In the silence, Harry notices the sound of the shower, meaning Ron is awake. The water stops, and Hermione's eyes doesn't leave his face as they listen to a door opening, and without thinking, Harry calls for Ron, louder than necessary, looking for an escape.

Ron comes into the kitchen, blinking, his skin still pink from the hot shower, water dropping from his wet hair. "What?" he asks. Harry swallows thickly, trying not to stare.

"You explain to Hermione, I'm tired of this," Harry says, catching Ron's eyes for a second before beelining out the kitchen,

"What?" Ron says to the empty spot Harry leaves behind. He looks at Hermione, " _What_?"

She sighs. “Why are you sleeping in separate rooms?"

Ron startles, blinking owlishly, "oh," he croaks as he blindly pulls a chair and sits opposite her, running his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his face, "we.. er-"

A silence stretches between them, Ron blinking rapidly as Hermione doesn't blink at all,

"We had.. a fight," he finally says. He thinks he hears a snort, but maybe he's just imagining things,

"A.. fight?"

"Not a.. no, not the right word, no.. just, y'know, a disagreement, an argument.. just, yeah.."

Hermione looks taken aback, "oh, um.. ok,"

Slowly, Ron stands, pointing with his thumb to the door, "let me just.. Harry.."

"Oh! Oh, yes! Of course!"

He nods once before basically running out the kitchen. He finds Harry standing a step away from the door. He meets Ron's angry eyes with a sheepish look before he's being dragged by Ron to the room closest to the kitchen, which happens to be Harry's; Ron closes and locks the door, casting a privacy charm for good measure, then he turns to Harry, but before he opens his mouth, Harry says,

"It's not my fault!"

"Whose fault is it?"

"Hermione's! Who the fuck checks on people while they're sleeping?"

"She.. saw-"

"You thought I _told_ her?!"

"I didn't know what to think! I didn't even know she was here!" he rubs his face frustratingly, "I told her-"

"I heard, yeah,"

Ron narrows his eyes at him. "You couldn't 'ave done that?"

Harry looks at him, aghast, "I can't lie to Hermione like that! She'll see right through me!"

"Oh you poor, innocent baby!"

"Oh, fuck off! I just woke up, and just 'cause you're a better liar-"

"That's not a bloody compliment!" Ron snaps without raising his voice,

"No! It's not!" Harry hisses back, meeting Ron's glare with one of his own,

"Harry? Ron?"

Their faces fall; Ron quickly takes down the charm as Harry unlocks the door,

"Yeah?" Harry says, voice a pitch higher than he wishes for,

She walks into the room, looking between them, "are you fighting again?"

"No,"

"Yes,"

They look at each other, Ron's ears are so red Harry's sure if he were to touch them, they'd be warm.

Hermione sighs, "look, I'm sorry, I know it's none of my business, I shouldn't have said anything. I honestly didn't mean to cause more problems between you,"

Harry looks at his feet, guilt eating away at him.

"No, it's not your fault, we-" Ron stops, taking a deep breath, "it's still new, we're still learning,"

Hermione gives him a watery smile, "I don't know what that says about me, but I think this is the happiest I've ever seen you,"

"This?!" Ron says, voice laced with humour,

Hermione shakes her head, her hair swaying back and forth, "you know what I'm talking about. You're both the happiest you've ever been,"

Ron says nothing, so Harry, heart in his throat, looks up. He finds Ron already looking at him, and there's no words to describe the look on his face, no words that Harry knows anyway.

But his heart beats unevenly in his chest at the look, all the same.

***

After Hermione leaves, Harry and Ron very stupidly come to the mutual agreement to sleep in the same bedroom from now on. The conversation was without a doubt one of the most painful experiences of Harry's life, and he has died before.

They just kept throwing:

_'it's just like when we were kids!'_

_'yeah!'_

_'we've shared a room before!'_

_'exactly!'_

at each other until they both were too red in the face and their voices got too high.

That night, they stayed as late as they could without making it too obvious.

Harry, with a spark of recklessness, says, "your room or mine?"

Ron snorts crudely, "I think my bed is bigger,"

Harry hides his flushed face by rushing to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and changes into his pajamas, feeling quite discombobulated by how uncomfortable his body feels. He breathes deeply for a few minutes before going to Ron's room, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

In the duskiness, Ron's sitting on his side of the bed with his back resting on the headboard, staring at the ceiling. He looks at Harry when he enters the room, a small smile on his face, "I'm a complete gentleman, I promise,"

"I hate you," Harry replies casually as he puts his glasses on the nightstand, getting under the covers; he lies down with his back to Ron, "good night," he says, closing his eyes,

"Do you.." Ron starts. He sounds serious, so Harry turns to him, blindly searching for his glasses to put them on again. In the moonlight, Harry sees Ron twisting the corner of the pillowcase in his hand, a warm pink dusting his cheeks, "regret this? Y'know, this game, I guess. It's-"

"More trouble than we thought?"

Ron gives a hesitant nod. "Yeah," he speaks softly, "it is,"

"Do you?" Harry asks, sitting up, hugging his knees to his chest as he watches Ron,

Ron looks back at him, and for a few seconds, he doesn't say anything.

"I don't," Ron says surely,

"Neither do I," Harry replies easily.

And he means it.

A small smile tugs the corner of Ron's mouth and he lightly says, "good night, Harry,"

"Good night," Harry says back, a bubbly feeling in his chest at Ron's soft voice.

***

Harry wakes up to an empty bed, the spot next to him cold, and it takes him a few seconds to remember why that feels wrong.

As usual, Ron's preparing breakfast. He's singing under his breath when Harry walks in, swaying with the lyrics, and the sight is so familiar it fills Harry with a warmness.

"Morning!" Ron says when he spots him, and the smile on Harry's face actually hurts his cheeks.

"Good morning," he replies, moving to make tea, "slept well?"

Ron chuckles, "like a baby," he points his spatula at Harry accusingly, "even though you kept stealing the bloody covers!"

Harry gasps, a look of feigned offense on his face, "me?! It was you!"

"I was trying to steal them _back_!"

Their banter is cut short by the sound of the Floo.

"Your favourite sister is here!" Ginny announces as she walks in,

Ron raises an eyebrow at her, "You're my only sister,"

"Favourite by default!"

Harry gestures to the teapot, trying not to smile, "tea?"

"Please. Thanks, Harry," Ginny says, "don't know why you bother with _him_ ,"

Ron huffs and rolls his eyes, "Oh, please," he strides over to Harry, hugging him tightly from behind, "he _loves_ me,"

Harry almost drops the teacup in his hand. He hears Ginny snorting, feels Ron's arms tightening a bit more around him before letting go and for a few seconds, he's rooted in his place, confused by the way his heart seems to flutter at the simplest contact.

When he hands Ginny her tea, she says, "he's a lot, huh?"

Harry sits next to her, "reckon I'm too,"

She gives him a rare tender smile, making sure Ron won't see it, "made for each other,"

Harry avoids her eyes, "what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Just visiting,"

Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Ginny never ' _just visits'_.

" _Fine_. Hermione-"

"Of course," Ron says as he places a plate before her, "of course it's Hermione,"

"I don't know what she's so worried about," Ginny says, looking between them, "you seem fine,"

"As if Hermione needs a reason to worry," Ron says, meeting Harry's eyes,

Ginny nods, taking a bite of her sausage, "well, forget about that, the team is throwing a farewell party for Valmai-"

"Yes!" they both exclaim,

Ginny takes another bite from her sausage, eyebrows dancing, "You don't even know what I'm going to say,"

"Are you inviting us to the party?" Ron asks,

She sighs before nodding.

"Then, _yes_ ," he says, "you don't even have to ask,"

"I haven't,"

"You have,"

"I really haven't,"

"You did, you did, I saw it in your eyes,"

Harry sits back, eating his breakfast as he watches them fondly.


	3. Chapter 3

The weeks leading to the party were cold and long and tiring, and Harry and Ron were looking forward to wind down.

The day of the party starts with heavy rain belting against the window of Ron's bedroom, disturbing Harry's slumber. Lazily, he ensconces himself into the warm body next to him, deeply inhaling the familiar scent. Without opening his eyes, he smiles a small, drowsy smile, letting himself fall deeper into the welcoming warmness.

He wakes up hours later to a warm but empty bed, searching through blurry vision for Ron, whose habit of waking up before Harry is starting to be bothersome.

He finds Ron in the living room staring out the window, watching over the gloomy city. Ron doesn't notice him at first, lost in thought as he is with his eyes focused on something Harry can't see, so Harry just watches him for a moment. From where he's standing, he can see the outline of Ron's profile, the long nose and the chapped lips and the pale lashes; he can see the long, rumpled hair and the slope of Ron's broad shoulder. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he leans on the back of the chair and his arms are tightly wound around himself like a protective shield from the cold and the rain outside. There's something off about him that fades away a little when he turns his head and catches Harry staring.

Harry's heart almost jumps right out of his chest.

"'Morning," Ron greets softly,

"'M-morning," Harry croaks back, heart still beating wildly. He watches as Ron turns away from the window and sits down on the chair he was leaning on,

"Look at the downpour, gotta take a boat to the party,"

"Fine by me," Harry leans against the wall and crosses his arms, "better than flooing,"

Ron rolls his eyes and his mouth twitches with mirth, but he doesn't say anything to that. Instead, he turns his head, looking out the window again.

Ron hates the rain. Hated it since the war. Harry always wonders how he handles living in London and its long, rainy days.

Worriedly, Harry moves until he's standing before Ron, blocking his view of the window. He is already looking at Ron when he tilts his head up to look at Harry questionably and Harry says, "We can cancel, order takeout and watch a film. We still haven't gotten around to watching that horror film we bought last month,"

Ron looks at him with grateful eyes even as he shakes his head no. "Mate, no. You know Harpies' parties are to die for,"

Harry does, but he's willing to miss it for Ron, if that's what he wants. Ron stands, stretching his long body and pushing his hair away from his face. "Gonna take a shower. I haven't made breakfa-"

"I got it, go ahead,"

He nods once and turns to leave, only to stop at the door. He turns his head slightly, eyes turned down. "Thanks," is weakly whispered and barely heard, and Harry's heart aches for him and the wounds that never heal.

***

The main hall is vast with eye-catching decoration, long tables with fancy drapes covered in all types of finger foods and beverages. A great glass door leads to a huge balcony that overlooks an enormous deep green garden. It's nothing like Harry expected, and even in his best dress robes draped over pressed dress shirt and trousers, he feels underdressed somehow. He looks at Ron, standing at his side as he looks over the place, dressed in navy blue dress robes; his eyes are alight and his bright hair is catching the light, and from the angle Harry's looking, he appears even taller somehow, and it's all making him look a little bit otherworldly.

Before Harry can entertain that train of thought any longer, Ginny finds them, dressed in a beautiful red dress robes, a glass of Champagne in one hand and a glassy look in her eyes,

"You're already drunk?!" Ron says before she even opens her mouth, getting a dirty look in reply,

"It's a party!" she snarls,

"A party that started, what, thirty minutes ago?"

Harry tries not to roll his eyes. He gives Ginny a look to stop her from biting Ron's head off and grips Ron's forearm, pulling him toward one of the long tables. “Today is not the day to play the babysitter," Harry says, dropping Ron's arm and grabbing two plates, handing one to Ron, who takes the plate and scowls at him,

"I'm not!"

"Ron," Harry scoffs, filling his plate with food,

" _Fine._ " Ron actually pouts, looking around the room, avoiding the glass door and the windows. "It's still raining," he says offhandedly,

Harry sighs and puts his plate down. The downpour hasn't stopped or slowed down all day. "Wanna leave?" he asks as he turns to Ron,

"Don't be ridiculous,"

"I'm serious, Ron,"

"It's just rain, Harry," he says, his eyes finally going to the glass door, "it's just rain,"

Harry's entire being hurts at the cloudy look on Ron's face. Horrid memories, painful memories. Harry always wonders how can a someone forgives _everyone_ but oneself.

He sighs, picking his plate up again. "You're missing out on the free food, mate,"

Ron looks back at him, and with a smile, he says, "like hell,"

Harry's spirits lift when Ron starts filling his plate.

***

He tries to wait until Ron returns from the loo at least, but people keep cornering and surrounding him, talking and shouting over one another and the music for his attention and without Ron there next to him, Harry finds it hard to breathe. It's too much and he needs a break, needs to get away before the panic sets in. He grabs a fresh glass of wine and beelines to the balcony, trying not to think too much about the hands that keep touching him.

He makes it before he completely loses control, downing the wine before he even catches his breath. He walks to the railing, putting the empty glass down on the ceramic top. Bringing both hands palm-down to smooth, cold surface, he leans forward, admiring the breathtaking view of the garden before closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of the rain and the trees. Even though the sound of the belting rain is strong, there is an eery quietness that Harry finds comfort in. The contrast between the outside and the inside makes Harry believes he's in a different place altogether.

"Hey,"

He doesn't jump, but his heart lurches as he opens his eyes and turns around.

"Hey," he replies quietly, trying to breathe normally,

"It's a lot, innit?" the stranger says, her head turning briefly to the door standing between them and the party,

He nods when she turns back to him again. She's absolutely beautiful, he notices, her dark skin is glowing in the soft light. "It is," he says,

She extends her hand, "Hodia,"

Harry shakes her hand, "Harry,"

Her mouth twitches as she raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know,"

Harry breathes a laugh, relaxing just a bit. "You never know, I'm not as famous as I used to be," he says, his words laced with sarcasm,

"I doubt that," she replies, and Harry's not sure if it flew over her head or she just simply chose to ignore it. She moves to stand next to him against the railing and they watch the party through the glass door for a few minutes. "You're here alone?" Hodia asks, eyes staring ahead,

Harry opens his mouth then closes it again, pondering whether he should call Ron his boyfriend or not. He doesn't want to wake up to the news of them dating, so in the end he settles for, "I'm not,"

She turns to him, a playful smile on her lips. "An equally not famous someone?"

Harry laughs. So it didn't fly over her head. He turns to her. "Yeah, you could say that,"

She studies him for a moment. "Wanna dance?" she asks and Harry is taken aback by how straightforward she is. Harry looks at the door again, watching the crowded dance floor, mildly panicking internally,

"We can dance away from the crowd,"

Harry looks at her, shocked. "I- yeah, sure,"

She takes his hand and pulls him back inside.

***

They dance for a couple of songs, then Harry spots Ron standing by the wall, arms crossed as he watches them neutrally. Harry stops mid-dance, looking down at Hodia. "Wanna meet my not-famous someone?"

She looks confused for a moment before nodding; they walk over to Ron, who's smiling slightly, but Harry knows him well enough to know it's not a genuine smile and he hopes Ron is not rude to Hodia.

When she spots Ron, she gasps, "Ron Weasley?!" in Harry's ear. He nods, biting back a smile when she gives him a funny look.

Ron greets them with a smile and a nod once they reach him,

"Hey, I'm Hodia," she says with a smile, nodding back politely,

"Ron. Nice to meet you,"

"It's really nice to meet you, too," she says pleasantly, "gonna grab a drink, do you-"

They both shake their heads no, watching her for a few seconds before turning to each other. Ron quickly looks away.

"So," Ron starts vaguely, "Hodia,"

"Mhm," Harry replies, feeling quite unsure,

"She's very pretty,"

"She is, yeah,"

"You looked happy," Ron says, "dancing with her, I mean,"

"I.. well, she's pleasant enough, I guess," Harry says, fully watching Ron as he looks anywhere but at him,

"Who did you tell her I am?" Ron asks casually, maintaining his causal stance as his eyes travel over the dancing crowd,

"I didn't tell her anything about you. She asked if I came alone and I said I didn't; guess she didn't expect to see _you_ , given her reaction,"

Ron nods once, face hardening. "Valmai is about to give her speech, prepare your tissues," he says, tearing away from Harry's side as the music starts to fade and the dance floor starts to clear. Harry stays frozen in his place, watching Ron's retreating back as he goes to the other side of the hall, hurt and unable to understand why.

***

Once again, Harry finds himself lost as he struggles to make sense of things. He hates it, the lingering anticipation that something's about to happen, to _change_ , because nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes and Harry can't hold his breath anymore, he _can't_ , he will suffocate. There's a coldness to Ron that Harry hasn't seen in years, and not directed at _him._ But he can't call him out on it, because it's not _really_ there. Ron's moves are calculated, strategized, and Harry hates the game Ron is playing, mostly because he's not included.

A tap-tap-tap on the window makes them both twist around. There's a beautiful tan owl flapping its wings impatiently, its big eyes boring into Harry's. He pushes away from his desk and goes to window. He opens it, aware of Ron's eyes on his back, and the owl lands on the forearm Harry holds out, extending one of its legs elegantly out to him. He unties the rolled parchment, and the owl flies out the window before he has a chance to give it a treat. He unrolls the parchment, reads the unfamiliar handwriting. He knows who it's from before he reads the name at the bottom of the parchment.

"It's from Hodia," he says casually, "she's asking me to join her for dinner at the Leaky this weekend,"

Ron doesn't say anything, and when Harry turns to him, he's looking at an open file on his desk. His eyes are not moving though, letting Harry know that Ron is intentionally ignoring him. His fingers are white where they're gripping the armrest of the chair, letting Harry know he's angry.

Still, he pushes his luck. "Ron, I'm talking to you,"

"She's asking you on a date, Harry,"

Harry blinks in surprise. "No, she's not, she's just asking-" he stops; he's not sure what she's asking of him, but, it's not a date. Can't be. Ron pushes the file away, turning his chair until he's facing Harry, arms crossed,

"Does she knows we're dating?"

"No, I already told you that!"

"Then why won't she ask you on a date, Harry?"

"Because! We didn't even talk that much! We just danced, and I wasn't even _that_ interested,"

"From where I was looking, you seemed _very_ interested,"

Something burns in Harry’s chest, and he feels a childish kind of anger toward Ron. He's sick of Ron's coldness, sick of the bitter taste Ron's words leave in _his_ mouth.

"Well," he says, fire in his veins, "maybe I am, maybe you're right,"

For a split second, Ron's wall of indifference collapses. But it's too quick to be an actual reaction, then he's a blank page again, nodding at Harry. "Good, _great_. You should let her know,"

So Harry does.

***

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron feels like walking to one's demise, which is absolutely ridiculous, Harry knows. _Hodia is a perfectly lovely person, she's funny and fun to be around_ , Harry reasons with himself, _The Leaky is a good place, tasty food and good drinks and fun music._

Harry just really, really doesn't want to be here.

He's early, he knows. She's not here yet, can't be. Harry sits at an empty table in a hidden corner where no one can see them, trying to shut down the voice in his head telling him to flee. _The place is too causal to be a date_ , he reasons with himself when Ron's words rang in his head, smiling back at Hannah.

Hodia arrives not ten minutes later, she smiles brightly when she spots him. She gives him a brief hug and she sits opposite him. As hours pass, the feeling of wrongness doesn't stop itching Harry's skin. The sky is deep navy and the sun is long gone by the time they walk out the Leaky, full and a bit tipsy. The streets are crowded, not too much, just enough to feel lively as they walk through them. _It's not a date, Ron was wrong_ , Harry insists privately. It's all too causal, too easy, like a new friendship.

So when Hodia leans in and kisses him, Harry feels like an utter fool.

***

Harry arrives to the flat with dread twisting his insides. He doesn't want to look Ron in the eyes, but there's no need to worry, because Ron is no where to be found. He drags his feet to his own bedroom and throws himself on his own bed, angrily kicking off his shoes. He tries not to think about how he feels dirty, how he feels like a cheater. _It's ridiculous to feel like that_ , he tells himself. Because they're not dating, and Ron didn't even care. If anything, it was Ron's idea. Maybe Ron's tired of him and this stupid game. _Maybe_ , and his heart drops at the thought, _Ron has found someone_.

The coldness and stillness of the night still haven’t faded when Harry hears the floo flares to life hours later. He slowly sits up, breathing shallow as he listens to Ron's footsteps. He waits for Ron to come to check on him, asks why Harry is not in what is now their bedroom.

But Ron never checks, he never asks, and when the morning papers has Harry and Hodia's kiss on the front page, Ron still doesn't check, still doesn't ask.

But Harry tries to explain all the same.

"I didn't kiss back," he says to Ron's back. Ron's whole body is a straight, tight line, intimidating in his Auror robes. "I didn't even know-"

"I told you she's interested, told you she's asking you on a date," Ron turns to him, his blue eyes icily boring into Harry's. "How are you so fucking blind to everything around you?"

Harry's heart twists painfully in his chest. "That's not fair," is all he can say with Ron's eyes glaring at him like that,

" _Not fair_? What's fair? That our family and friends are going to think you're cheating on me and not even _trying_ to hide it?"

Harry didn't even think of that. All night he was so worried about Ron, he forgot there's other people to worry about. Ron laughs, and it's almost cruel. "That didn't even cross your mind, huh? You didn't even care-"

"Of course I care! I just- I was worried about _you_!"

"You were worried about _me_?! Is that why you went on a date with her?"

"I already told you, I didn't think it was a date,"

"Bullshit. You're not that thick, Harry,"

"I really-" he stops when Ron suddenly moves closer. He's only a couple of steps away when he asks,

"Why didn't you tell her that we are dating?"

It hits Harry out of nowhere but hit him it does, the fact that Ron has been asking him the same question in different ways all week.

Ron's hands are in tight fists at his sides, waiting for an answer, and Harry feels so small,

"I worried it would be all over the news," he whispers,

Ron breathes a humorless laugh. "How did _that_ work out for you?" he says then deflates, moving to walk away. Harry grips his arm in desperation. "Let me go," Ron sighs,

Harry shakes his head rabidly, something akin to panic gripping and twisting his insides. "No, I won't. Are you not listening? I didn't kiss her, Ron, didn't even want to." Harry grabs the newspaper from the table, "just take a look, look at me, I hated it,"

"I'm not going to fucking study a picture of you two snogging," Ron says without looking at him,

"God, Ron, there was no snogging," he says, throwing the papers away. They land messily on the floor, but neither pay it any mind,

"Let me go,"

"I won't,"

Ron turns to him, and for a second, Harry's heart beat in undeserved hopefulness, then Ron jerks his arm away. "Look, save your explanations for Mum and Hermione and everyone else, I don't need them, Harry. I don't fucking care,"

"Ron-"

"You didn't care either. You said _maybe_ you're interested. If you're not, why did you go, Harry?" he asks as if this is Harry's last chance,

Shame fills Harry, going through him like fire until he's numb. Ron's watching him closely and patiently, waiting. But Harry doesn't know why he did it. All he remembers is the whirlwind of emotions at the time, and how being in the receiving end of Ron's cold shoulder hurt. "I don't know," he whispers, so low, almost hoping Ron won't hear.

Fury takes over Ron's features in a blink and he starts shaking all over, appearing to be in some kind of battle about what to do or say next. He takes a deep breath and says, "we're late," in a controlled voice before turning and walking away, leaving behind an utterly disheartened Harry who helplessly watches him go. He notices how even Ron's steps are angry.

With a sigh Harry waves his wand and vanishes the newspaper before following Ron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're on tumblr, come follow at Livingincolorsagain (look at the username pls I’m so original lol).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ok. Here's the last chapter! I've had SO much fun writing this story and it was delightful and heartwarming to see you all enjoying it. Thank you so much for all love, all the comments and kudos and bookmarks, you're the absolute best! <3

Later that night, Harry enters the flat alone, dragging his feet to the couch. He throws himself onto it, eyes staring unseeingly at his reflection on the dark screen of the telly. Ron left work early. He left without saying a word, without even looking Harry's way. It hurts, Ron's silence. It's all weighting down on him and he sinks deeper into the couch, wondering if it can just swallow him whole.

The floo flares to life, the noise falling like thunder on the quietness of the flat, and Ginny appears, her face pale and her eyes red. Her angry steps echo in the following silence as she walks toward Harry, her whole body shaking.

"Explain," she says through clenched teeth, towering over him,

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. How can he explain what he doesn't understand? He feels as if he's deep under water, swimming his way up, but unable to break the surface.

She throws herself next to him, sharp eyes watching him. "Harry," she says, her anger and confusion seeping into her words, "what's going on?"

He doesn't know, he really doesn't. He knows he doesn't want to talk though, so he stands to leave, but Ginny grips his wrist in a rigid hold, her eyes flashing as she stands as well,

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on,"

Harry stares at her as her eyes fill with tears, hating himself.

"You didn't. Just say you didn't, Harry. Please,"

He shakes his head and looks down at his feet. He didn't, he really fucking didn't.

The front door opens and they both turn to see as Ron walks through it. His disheveled look lets Harry know he was taking a walk in the howling wind outside. There's a sad aura around him, apparent in the way he moves.

He's mid pulling off his robes when he spots them. He freezes, eyes going from their faces to Ginny's tight hold on Harry's wrist. "What's going on here?" he asks urgently,

She drops Harry's arm and turns to him. "Ron-" she starts, "the newsp-" then stops, looking back at Harry, seemingly debating what to say and how to say it.

"I saw it," Ron says tiredly, completely pulling off his robes with a jerk. He throws the robes on the back of a chair, refusing to meet Ginny's eyes.

She seems baffled by his reaction as she watches him toe his shoes off next. Suddenly, she turns back to Harry, hands tightly fisted. "How could you cheat on him?!" she shouts her accusation, fists bounding on Harry's chest. Harry doesn't try to stop or push her away; he stands there taking the blunt of her anger,

"Ginny, stop!" Ron shouts, his socks clad feet slapping the floor as he runs over to them, grabbing Ginny from around the waist and pulling her away from Harry, putting himself between them. "Stop! It's not what it looks like, I promise,"

Ginny pushes his arms away from her. "You were always blind when it comes to him!"

Harry can't even see his face and he still sees the flash of hurt that went through Ron like an electric shock at Ginny's words. But she doesn't notice, blinded as she is by her anger and Harry watches as Ron physically shakes himself before saying, "I'll explain-"

She ignores him, turning her furious eyes to Harry behind him. "What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do that to him?"

"Ginny-" Ron tries again,

"How could you cheat on him?!" she shouts again, trying to get into Harry's face, but Ron moves to block her,

"He didn't cheat!" he insists,

"I can't- _what_?" she snaps her head to look at Ron. "Ron, you can't be serious. Everyone has seen the newspaper, he snogged Hodia in the _street_ , where everyone can see them!" she turns her glare to Harry again, who turns his face away from her angry, accusing eyes as if they burned him,

"He didn't cheat because we're not dating, Ginny!" Ron snaps, deflating just a bit once the words left his mouth,

She falls silent, almost giving herself a whiplash by snapping her neck to stare at Ron flabbergastingly. " _W_ _hat_?" she asks weakly, "what are you talking about?"

Harry watches Ron's back, a hollow feeling in his chest. "Ron.." he croaks, voice thick with disuse. Ron moves as if he's going to turn to him. But he doesn't. His shoulders fall as if all the fight has went out of his body,

"We never were," Ron says, his voice weak in a way it rarely is, drained and empty,

The pain in Harry's chest intensifies until it becomes painful to breathe. Ginny shakes her head, looking back and forth between the two of them. "What are.. No.. you-you're just saying that to-to-"

Ron laughs humourlessly and the sound twists Harry's heart.

"B-but.. You- no, I saw how you looked at each oth-" she stops, pieces falling into place,

Harry tilts his head to the side, thinking back. He thinks about how the feel of Ron's lips on his has rendered him breathless and speechless. How Ron's arms tight around his waist, pulling him close, were strong and sure. How the simplest of touches made his heart flutter. How Ron's body, his hair, his eyes, his _smile_ make his heart beats in an entirely new way.

It's not a groundbreaking realisation, it's nothing new, and only now does Harry understand just what game they've been playing.

And he feels so.. _foolish_.

"It was just a game, Ginny." Ron says quietly, and it's a lie, "It was never real. We pretended to date to get Mum and Hermione off our backs about dating, that's all. Leave him alone," Ron says,

"This can't.." Ginny whispers in one last attempt of denial, "Ron.. you're just saying this to.. to.."

"Just don't tell anyone, ok? Especially Mum and Hermione,"

"Ron-"

"Ginny, _please_ ,"

She nods slowly, looking quite disorientated. Ron sighs and whispers a _thank you_ before disappearing into his bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind him. A few minutes pass in heavy silence, then Ginny shakes her head and steps closer to Harry,

"You're an idiot," she says quietly, her pointing finger stabbing his chest.

Harry sighs and nods. He is. Fucking hell, he really is.

***

Harry's sitting alone in the kitchen, lost in his thoughts as he holds a staring contest with an empty beer bottle, so he doesn't notice Hermione standing by the door, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised, until she speaks,

"You're becoming quite a hard person to get to," she says, watching him jerks in surprise,

"God, Hermione," he looks at her, heart racing. "I'm busy,"

"From what I heard, you're making yourself busy. Good strategy to avoid talking, very original,"

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn't try to deny it. He pushes his chair back and goes to grab two fresh bottles of beer, handing one to Hermione before taking his seat again.

He watches as she walks over to sit opposite him, meeting her questioning eyes as he drinks his beer.

"Well, what's going on?" she asks,

"I thought you were talking to Ron," he replies,

"I _am_ talking to Ron. Ron, however, is not talking to me, or anyone for the matter. He just made sure no one thinks you're cheating and took an oath of silence,"

Harry looks down at the tabletop, grabbing the bottle with both hands. The thought of Ron explaining and excusing his mistake fills him with shame.

Hermione clucks her tongue. "I don't understand why you're both so miserable. What's going on with the two of you?"

Harry downs his beer silently. He knows he doesn't need to answer, Hermione is sure to have a theory or two and it's best to let her get it all out of her system.

"I know you'd never cheat, not on _Ron_ of all people. It's not that. But.. well. Look Harry, I know I might be the last person you want to hear this from-"

Harry raises an eyebrow at that. "Why would you say that?"

"Who wants relationship advice from their boyfriend's ex?"

Harry blinks at her. "You're not just Ron's ex, Hermione, you're our friend,"

"I know, it's just.. this is not what I'm here for,"

"What are you here for?"

"To talk about why you're both so miserable, why you're avoiding me, why Ron is not talking to anyone and why Ginny thinks you're both the biggest morons to walk on earth,"

"Er, that's a lot,"

Hermione snaps. She gets to her feet and leans forward to shout right into Harry's face,

"Well, I wasn't going to talk about all of that at once but you've been avoiding me for days and Ron is refusing to say anything and work has been very stressful and I haven't had sex in _months_ and and I'm not getting enough sleep and I'm _exhausted_!"

Harry instinctually leans back away from her. For a few seconds, they stare at each other in shock.

Harry clears his throat. "Go ahead," he says,

She fixes her hair and sits back down. "All I want to say is you and Ron show your feelings.. differently, and you have different needs. You might not need to hear words to.. _know_ , and Ron shows his feelings to you in every little thing he does anyway. But, Harry, Ron does. He needs the words and the affirmation. It doesn't matter how obvious you are and really, a blind person can see, but Ron needs you to say it. He'll question and second guess everything-"

Harry stares at her, his mind spinning. "Er, Hermione-"

"I know you're not comfortable with vocally expressing your feelings but, this is _Ron._ There is no need for any grand gestures!"

Harry's hands start to shake, so he put the bottle down on the table again, intertwining his fingers together. He stares at her for a full minute. "What?" he finally asks, "How do you even.. _know_ that?"

"I used to date Ron, we already established that,"

"Not _that_!"

"Well, have you?"

"Hermione!"

"Just a hunch,"

She's not right, not exactly. _But_ she's not wrong either, and it made Harry realise how complicated this whole situation is. But if Ron hasn't told Hermione the truth, then neither would Harry. Things are messed up enough as it is, and Hermione's wrath is bound to painful.

"Drink your beer," he says instead.

Hermione takes it as a win, raising her bottle,

"Cheers."

***

Harry is starting to wonder just how much more he can take of the silence treatment when he spots Ron trying to sneak into their office.

 _For fuck's sake, how old are we?_ Harry thinks, following him without making it too obvious. He makes sure no one is watching before he closes and locks the door behind him, standing against it as Ron stares at him, unimpressed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ron asks shortly. Harry is so delighted to have Ron speaking to him again that his heart skips happily in his chest and really, it's quite pathetic.

Harry clears his throat. "We need to talk,"

"I don't want to talk,"

Harry clucks his tongue. "Pity that. We _need_ to talk,"

"Sod off," Ron says, grabbing the file he came for and walking over to Harry. "Can you move?"

"Not 'til we talk. I've something to say to you,"

"Harry, I've got things to do, _move_ ,"

"Why don't you make me, then?" Harry challenges, standing up to his full height. He still barely comes past Ron's shoulders. Ron raises an eyebrow, still appearing unimpressed, but there's a glint in his eyes that sends Harry's brain into overdrive.

"You know I can," Ron says slowly, closely watching him,

"I know you won't," Harry says softly, stepping closer to Ron, his eyes falling to Ron's lips on their own accord,

"I don't want to talk, Harry," Ron repeats, sounding less sure, and his eyes follow Harry's tongue as he wets his lips. Harry tears his eyes away from Ron's lips to look him in the eye,

"Don't talk then. Listen,"

"I don't want to listen either," he says, but contrary to his words, he's leaning closer. They both are. They are a breath away when a knock sounds on the door. It makes them jump apart, and the moment is gone. Harry's heart beats wildly in his chest as he turns to open the door with shaky hands, unable to stop his gasp when he sees Hodia, who gives him a nervous, shy smile,

"W-what- er.. are you doing-" he stops, watching her smile disappears at his incoherent sentence. She appears taken aback by his rudeness.

"I just.. you weren't answering my owls and after how you left-" she jumps in surprise when Ron appears from behind Harry and walks past them. They both look after him as he disappears down the hallway, Hodia in shock and Harry in regret. She turns to Harry again. "Is this a bad time?"

"Yeah, we're kinda.. in a middle of something, can we.. I dunno.. talk later?"

"You didn't say anything,"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I promise I'll-"

"No, about Ron. I thought you were just mates, you never stated otherwise and I assumed.."

"Oh.. er.."

She looks distraught. "Oh, my God, he must think I'm-"

"He doesn't, I promise. None of this is your fault, Hodia. It's on me, I misread the whole situation," he sighs, his eyes searching for Ron one more time before giving up. He sighs again. "C'mon in, let's talk. Would you like something to drink?"

***

Harry is determined. He's stubborn and hardheaded and determined and maybe a bit drunk, and to hell with everything, _Ron'll listen to him_.

If only he knew where the fuck Ron is.

He sits in the dark, sipping then gulping down his firewhisky, enjoying the burn while it lasts. _He'll have to come home_ _eventually_ , Harry reasons. He can't avoid Harry forever. He bloody well can't. He better not.

It's late and the wind is howling outside. A creaking sound lets Harry knows there's a window somewhere in the flat not closed properly, but it's not really bothering him. It's a welcomed distraction from his excruciating thoughts, albeit a very weak one, because his drunk thoughts keep drifting back to Ron and his absence and his drunk thoughts are incredibly melodramatic.

"Where are you, huh?" Harry asks, throwing his head back. The answering silence is almost too much and Harry is so close to summoning another bottle of firewhisky when the front door opens and Ron walks in. Harry sees Ron's silhouette as he drags his feet inside, shoulders dropped in a sad slope as he closes the door. Harry uses his wand to turn on the lights and it causes Ron to jerk in surprise before turning around to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Can we talk now?" Harry asks desperately,

Ron shakes himself, his hair curtaining his face, and he throws Harry a sod off look. "You're drunk,"

Harry groans, pointing his wand in the general direction of the bathroom, summoning the sobering potion. It hits his hand with a loud smack and Harry makes a show of popping it open and downing the potion, aware of Ron studiously watching him. A few minutes pass in silence as the potion takes effect, then Harry fully turns his chair to look at Ron, the screeching of the chair legs scraping the floor making both of them wince.

"I'm not drunk anymore," Harry says,

Ron sighs. "What do you even have to say, Harry?"

"You'd know if you just bloody fucking _listen_ ,"

"I already listened. You didn't really have anything to say,"

It's taking everything in Harry's power not to scream in frustration at Ron's unwavering stubbornness. "Well, I do now,"

"Well," Ron snaps, already walking toward his bedroom, "I don't want to listen anymore,"

This won't do, Harry realises. They are just going in circles, just like they've been for the past week, the past _months,_ and he can't take it anymore. Enough is fucking _enough_.

"I didn't realise, maybe I just didn't want to see it. I was scared that it's all in my head, scared because I couldn't imagine risking our friendship, no matter how much I wanted to- to do _something_ ," he stands slowly, watching Ron stop mid-step, his back tensing. "I didn't want to lose you, so I kept pushing it aside, pretending nothing has changed, that it's all in my head. I really wanted- really _want_ it, everything we've faked, I want it for real. I can't hide it anymore, and it seems like I'm losing you anyway, so I might as well do it properly,"

"You could have it with anyone,"

Harry feels as if he's made of stone as he takes careful steps toward Ron. "True," he says to Ron's back, unable to stop his hands from shaking, "but I don't want it with anyone else. Don't want anyone but you,"

Ron turns around, eyes bright with unshed tears. "If you're saying this because you're scared of losing me, _don't_ , Harry. I know I've not been the best of mates lately, but I'll get over it. Just- just give me some time.."

 _Fuck's sake._ Harry takes the last step that brings him in Ron's personal space, staring up at Ron's scared face. "I'm in love with you, you impossible sodding git,"

Ron gasps. He _gasps,_ the tears falling down his cheeks as he stares at Harry like he's the single most magical thing in the universe and Harry feels as if there are fireworks going off in his chest at the look. He cups Ron's cheeks, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs,

"I love you, Ron," he whispers through blocked throat, feeling as light as a feather when Ron cups his face, bringing their foreheads together. He moves his hands from Ron's face to his neck then to his sides, gently squeezing to make sure it's real; that Ron's real and he's really here and this is really happening,

"And they say romance is dead," Ron says tenderly.

Harry gasps a surprised laugh, pulling back just a little to look at Ron. "That was an awful love confession, huh?"

Ron shakes his head, face growing serious. "I was scared too, Harry. Then Hodia came around and it was like all my fears were confirmed,"

Harry squeezes his sides again, a little embarrassed. "Er, I'm sorry about that. I really didn't think.. I just thought.. I only went because _you_ told me to, Ron. I thought you didn't care,"

Ron raises an eyebrow at that. "Harry, a blind man could have seen I was jealous," he says exasperatedly,

Harry shrugs sheepishly. He could see that _now_. Ron's face softens again. "God, you're such an idiot,"

"Oi,"

"Even waking up everyday, seeing you sleeping next to me was too much. I was terrified I'd do something stupid so I started getting up at ungodly hours to make sure I'm up before you,"

"Oh?" Harry says wickedly, heart racing in anticipation as he already leans in, "like what?"

"Like kiss you,"

"You definitely should do something stup-"

Ron's lips are on his before he's done speaking, sucking and biting as he wraps his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him flush against him as he simultaneously pushes Harry backward until his back hits the wall. Harry sneaks his hands around Ron's neck, one holding on nape of his neck as the other threads through Ron's soft hair. He pushes himself off the wall and into Ron, tilting his head and pushing himself to stand on his tiptoes, deepening the kiss, his whole body on fire in the most delicious way, hyperaware of everything that's _Ron_. He whines when Ron pulls back, breathlessly gasping for air as he stares at him. Harry knows he probably already looks disheveled, and now they're no longer kissing, he's aware of the way his glasses were digging into the skin of their faces. He can see the red marks on Ron's face. He gasps breathlessly, removing the hand tangled in Ron's hair to softly touch the reddening skin with the tips of his fingers.

"Does it hurt?" he whispers, unsure why he's whispering,

"I love you too," Ron says, voice strong and certain, and, sure, Harry already knew, already understood; but it still takes his breath away. Ron's words, the look in his eyes, his tender touch on Harry's waist, and Harry's eyes burn and he feels as if he's gonna burst open with the way his heart suddenly feels too big in his chest. Ron leans back, studying Harry's face, as if he's memorising the look.

"I think we're having a moment," he says teasingly after a minute, but his voice is so soft and Harry can't stop staring at him,

Harry nods slowly. "At least we don't have an audience, no one ever has to know we cried," he replies, realising his hand is still hovering, so he drops it to hold Ron's upper arm.

"Yeah," Ron nods, then he's kissing Harry and no more words are said.

And the next morning when Harry wakes up Ron is still in bed, right there next to him, half-awake. He leans in, morning breath and all, to give Harry a sleepy kiss and a mumbled _good morning_ and Harry can't wait for every morning to be just like this one, morning breath and all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! Follow me on [tumblr](https://livingincolorsagain.tumblr.com) .


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